


Cabin Pressure: Miami

by isyotm



Category: Cabin Pressure, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Airplanes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 03:02:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4043335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isyotm/pseuds/isyotm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Cabin Pressure</i>, starring Morgana Pendragon as Caroline, Arthur Pendragon as Douglas, Merlin Emrys as Martin, and Guinevere Thomas as Arthur! This week… Miami!</p><p>The <i>Cabin Pressure</i> AU no one asked for or wanted in which Merlin, <i>not</i> Arthur, is an airline (although it’s really more of an air<i>dot</i>) captain for a little-known company called MJN Air.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cabin Pressure: Miami

**Author's Note:**

> A note: Most of the pairings are implied and one-sided (sorry).
> 
> I've been working on this for almost two years so...uh...yeah. This ended up being two parts _Merlin_ , three parts _Cabin Pressure_ , and one part _The Hangover_. And then a _Scott Pilgrim_ reference for good measure.
> 
> Please forgive any Americanisms.

“Good evening, ladies and—well, it’s just the two of you this evening, isn’t it? This is your first officer speaking. It seems that we’ve reached cruising altitude and so in a few moments our captain—who, once again, is not me, by the way, though I can certainly understand the confusion, as I am significantly more dashing and handsome—will turn off the seatbelt sign and you will be free to roam about the cabin. We hope you’re having a pleasant flight.”

The cabin address dinged to indicate that Arthur was finished with his absurd speech.

Merlin sighed. “A show of professionalism would be greatly appreciated.”

“But you see, Merlin, that’s exactly all that it would be: A show. I thought you prided yourself on honesty.”

“I do—”

“Then what’s the trouble? Besides, Morgana’s not complaining.”

“That’s because she’s not on the plane—in fact, she’s thousands of miles away _on the ground_ —and therefore can’t hear you.”

“And if Morgana’s not on the plane,” Arthur replied, completely ignoring the rest of Merlin’s comment, “then our client must not be that important and therefore the effort required for a ‘show of professionalism,’ as you put it, would be _wasted_.”

Merlin opened his mouth to reply, still frowning because where was Arthur’s _pride_ , when he was interrupted by the sound of the flight deck door.

“Dinner!” Gwen announced cheerfully. She backed into the room, balancing a tray carrying two foil-wrapped plates on it, and proceeded to hand them to the two pilots.

“Thank you, Gwen. What’s on the menu today?” Merlin asked as he unwrapped his meal.

Gwen frowned in concentration. “Chicken…something.”

“Well that sounds promising,” Arthur drawled. “Does it come with a something side salad?”

“Yes, actually, it does. And I even remember what’s on it, lucky for you.”

“Please, do enlighten us.”

“Caesar dressing. And the crumby bread things that come on Caesar salad.”

“Croutons?” Merlin supplied.

“Yes, thank you. Croutons.”

Arthur’s dubious expression remained firmly in place as he cut up his lukewarm chicken and put a piece in his mouth.

“At least it’s edible,” he muttered.

The two pilots chewed in companionable silence until Merlin noticed that Gwen was still hovering by the door. He swallowed thickly and said, “Uh, dinner’s great. Thanks.”

“No problem,” she beamed. “It’s what I’m here for.” She still didn’t move.

“Did you…did you need something?” he continued.

“Ah, uh, no… I—I was just wondering… I mean, our only passenger is Ms. Baskov and, while positively lovely and absolutely charming, she doesn’t really speak English very well…or—or at all—” Arthur gave Merlin a pointed look— “so I was wondering if you guys were planning any of your flight deck word games and if I might have a go.”

“Flight deck _word games_ , Guinevere?” Arthur asked, each syllable oozing sarcasm. “That wouldn’t be very _professional_ of us, now, would it?”

“Oh.” The hope that had been sparkling in Gwen’s eyes was immediately extinguished. “Right. Sorry. Didn’t mean to intrude on your boys’ club or whatever. Have to get this tray back to the kitchen anyways. Have fun.”

“What Arthur _means_ ,” Merlin sighed, “is that when we’re done eating, we’ll call you. You can pick which one we play.”

“Really?” she asked, beaming.

“Really.”

“Brilliant! Just ring the bell when you’re done then.” She left the flight deck in a significantly better mood than when she’d entered.

“I thought we had to be professional, _captain_ ,” Arthur said when she was gone.

“You’re just glad I saved you from looking like you had a heart.”

Arthur decided he was above replying and swallowed a mouthful of Caesar salad.

* * *

 

“How was the flight? No expensive, unnecessary rerouting I hope? No dive-bombing young children’s birthday parties?” Morgana greeted them as they stepped off the plane at Fitton airfield.

“Morgana, you do let your imagination get the best of you. When have we _ever_ —” Arthur began.

“You,” Merlin corrected. “You’re the one who does things like that.”

“But Merlin,” Morgana asked in a voice like steel, “who’s the one in the flight deck that _allows him_ to do such things?”

“I-I… That is—”

“That’s what I thought. Now do be a dear and go help Gwen with Ms. Baskov’s bags.”

“But I’m the _captain_.”

“And who better to ensure Ms. Baskov had a nice, relaxing flight? Thank you, Merlin. Like I said, an absolute _dear_.”

Merlin sighed and followed Gwen.

When he left, Morgana turned to Arthur, pale and uneasy.

“Just tell me what the bad news is, Morgana, please, because otherwise I’m going to assume that someone’s died.”

“Uther called again.”

Arthur’s jocular manner dried up immediately. “What did he say?” The tone was meant to be light, nonchalant, but each word sounded like it had gotten stuck on the way out of his mouth.

“Oh, you know, same as usual: How’s my plane, something about blood-traitor offspring, have your debts and poor business sense destroyed that dying animal you call a company yet, that sort of thing. Pleasant as always.”

“Naturally. What did you tell him?”

“‘It’s _my_ plane’ to the first part and ‘fuck off’ to the rest.”

“Your usual tact on display.”

“Of course.”

Arthur hesitated before voicing his next question and when he finally did, he sounded strangely vulnerable. “Did he…did he ask about me? Give you a message?”

Morgana looked at him sadly as she shook her head. “Nothing specific. And no message.”

“Right.” He squared his shoulders and walked towards the parking lot where the figure of Ms. Baskov was climbing into a taxi.

“Arthur?”

He ignored her.

She sighed.

* * *

 

Merlin never liked riding in the back of Morgana’s Mercedes because somehow he always managed to be squished next to Arthur. Even though there were only four people in the car, his sleepy mind hazily registered the line of Arthur’s thigh pressed right up next to his and the situation added a thin layer of irritation to his exhaustion.

“Move over,” he grumbled, although it could’ve possibly come out as just a growl; he had yet to be properly caffeinated.

“I _would_ but Morgana’s decided to bring everything she owns on this trip and for some reason her bags are too good to go in the boot,” Arthur responded, slightly more awake but equally disgruntled.

“Damn right they are,” Morgana told them as Gwen passed the two sleepy pilots cups of hot coffee, careful not to spill a drop on the expensive leather interior. “ _Your_ bags are back there after all.”

“How silly of us,” Arthur muttered and took a sip.

“Why are we up so early?” Merlin asked, although, once again, it was more of a growl than any human dialect.

“I’m so glad you asked, Merlin, and here is your answer: We are going to be flying a charity barbershop quartet called the Knights of Camelot to Miami—that’s in Florida and no, we’re not going to the beach—for a concert.”

The car was silent for a long moment.

“I’m trying to figure out which part of that was supposed to be the joke,” Merlin finally said.

“I’m willing to bet it’s the ‘charity’ bit,” Arthur chimed in.

“And you would usually be right except that _they_ are the charity, not MJN. In fact, we’re being paid quite handsomely to fly them across the Pond and wait while they do their concert…thing before flying them back again.”

“A barbershop quartet,” Gwen breathed, voice reverent.

Arthur snorted. “I wouldn’t be too impressed just yet. They’re acapella singers, not rock stars. It’s probably just a group of balding old men with too much time on their hands.”

Morgana smirked, but didn’t bother to correct him.

* * *

 

Arthur was willing to admit that the men waiting for them at Fitton airfield were neither old nor bald and that Gwen was probably right to be excited about meeting them. Morgana had told him the Knights of Camelot had quite a following and now he believed it. And if they could sing half as good as they looked, they deserved it.

Morgana swept over to meet the men and shake their hands. “Hello, everyone, it’s wonderful to finally meet you in person. Which one of you would be Mr. Young?”

A pleasant-looking man with reddish hair and a short, scruffy beard stepped forward and the two began to discuss some final flight preparations. The other three members of the quartet drifted towards Gwen and the two pilots, introducing themselves one by one and shaking hands.

“Percival, or Percy for short.”

“Lance. Well, Lancelot, but you can just, uh, just Lance is fine,” the man stuttered as he shook Gwen’s hand.

“I’m Gwaine.”

Gwaine gripped Merlin’s hand for a second longer than strictly polite or necessary and gave him a wink that could only be described as lascivious.

“Uh, yes, n-nice to meet you.”

“So, captain,” Percy began, clapping Arthur on the back.

“Actually, _I’m_ the captain,” Merlin interjected. Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Ah, sorry. So, captain,” Percy repeated, clapping Merlin on the back. “What’s the plan for today?”

“Fly to Miami?”

“Just a straight shot?” Gwaine seemed disappointed.

“Well, Morgana—our CEO, the woman over there—mentioned that you needed to be there quickly in order to prepare for your concert this—tomorrow?—evening.”

“Yes, we do,” Lance said. “Thank you for agreeing to fly us on such short notice.”

“Of course,” Arthur replied, all suave charm. “Our company motto is ‘Anywhere, anytime’ after all.”

“And I’m sure you’ll deliver,” Gwaine said, not looking at Arthur at all. Merlin gulped.

“Knights!” Mr. Young shouted in the clipped tones of a drill officer.

As one, the Knights of Camelot snapped to attention, turned to the left, and filed onto the plane.

Merlin waited until the singers were out of earshot before frowning at his first officer. “Why does everyone always think _you’re_ the captain?”

“Merlin, look at me. Now look at you. Now back to me. Now ask yourself the following question: Why _wouldn’t_ they think I was the captain?”

“He does have a point, Skip,” Gwen chimed in.

“Yes, okay, but may I point out that _I’m_ the one wearing the captain’s hat? And the captain’s uniform?”

“And you’re also wearing the captain’s shoes and the captain’s name tag and the captain’s ceremonial sash, but I’m sure you can find it in your heart to go easy on us plebeians, Merlin— _Captain_ Merlin—who have not been so thoroughly educated on airline rank insignia as you clearly have,” Morgana said dryly as she breezed past them and boarded the plane.

“Do you think it’s the name?” Merlin asked Gwen.

Gwen gnawed her lip as she mulled it over. “Captain Merlin Emrys. Captain Arthur Pendragon. _Captain_ Merlin Emrys. _Captain_ Arthur Pendragon. _Mer_ lin _Em_ rys. _Ar_ thur _Pen_ dragon. Pen _dra_ gon.” She nodded. “Yep, definitely the names. See, Arthur’s sounds like a captain’s and yours… Well, Skip, yours sounds like a little kid pretending to be a captain.” At the dejected look on his face, she tried her best to backpedal—“I mean, you know, but what’s in a name? Isn’t that what Shakespeare said? ‘A rose by any other name’ and whatnot? The important part is you’re _actually_ the captain, right?”—but Merlin refused to be cheered up.

Arthur sighed. As much as fun as it was to needle Merlin, seeing him in such a mood always made him feel strangely guilty, an emotion he wasn’t very comfortable or familiar with.

“What Guinevere _means_ ,” Arthur cut in sternly, “is that at the end of the day, you’re the one with four stripes and flying the plane. So who _cares_ if I’mhandsomer and a better pilot and give the air of _being_ a captain? You’re the only one who has the privilege of actually calling himself one.”

Merlin glanced over at him and rolled his eyes but to Arthur’s relief, his mouth quirked up with a hint of a smile. “You’re terrible at cheering people up.”

“‘Cheering—’?” Arthur was absolutely flabbergasted. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Call it what you like, I know that’s what you were trying to do.”

“Get on the plane,” Arthur responded gruffly, embarrassed.

Gwen tried to high-five him—“Good job, Arthur!”—but Arthur studiously ignored it. He wouldn’t be caught _dead_ cheering someone up. Despite how his father might feel, he was still a _Pendragon_ for goodness sake.

* * *

 

“Tower, this is Golf Echo Romeo Tango India. Are we clear for take-off?” Merlin asked.

“Yeah. Whenever you’re ready to go, just, you know… _whoosh_ ,” air traffic control responded.

“Thank you, Tower. We shall take your advice and _whoosh_ at our earliest convenience.”

“So, what time do you think Cedric hit the sauce today?” Arthur asked as Merlin studiously checked over the instruments for the last (“just _once_ more, Arthur, you can never be too careful”) time.

“He didn’t ask us to repeat GERTI’s name, so sometime after noon, I should think.”

“But he did include sound effects.”

“Before 3 then.”

“A broken heart does ugly things to a man,” Arthur said in sage tones, shaking his head sadly.

Merlin snorted. “And you would know all about that.”

“I’m offended, Merlin.”

“Wounded, even?”

“ _Hurt_ , Merlin.”

“Cabin crew, prepare for take-off,” Merlin told Gwen and Morgana over the in-flight communication as he completely ignored Arthur’s best attempt at a wounded expression.

* * *

 

“ _The Iceman Comet_.”

“Hmm, good one. Okay, what about…”

“If you say something like ‘ _The Hound of the Baskerville_ ’ again, I am going to throw myself out of the airplane. Sans parachute.”

Merlin frowned. “Come on, that was pretty good.”

“No, that was pretty good for _you_. Which means it was just absolutely awful.”

“ _Gone with the Win_ ,” Morgana said as the flight deck door whisked open behind them.

The two men jumped.

“How do you always know what we’re playing?” Merlin asked.

“I’m fairly certain she spies on us,” Arthur replied.

“We’ve been in the air for an hour. You always do the book thing for the first hour and a half of a flight,” Morgana told them.

“My god. Have we really become that predictable?” Arthur looked horrified.

“Gwen’s refusing to bring in your coffee until she can think of a good one.”

“Can’t you feed her something?” Merlin begged.

“Really, Morgana, I don’t think it would be good publicity for MJN if our captain fell asleep at the wheel, so to speak,” Arthur agreed.

“I tried, but she’s refusing to even glance in my direction until she thinks of something.”

“What if you get one of our dashing young Knights to help her out?” Arthur suggested.

“It seems like Lancelot is rather, uh, fond of her,” Merlin added and then immediately regretted it.

Morgana focused in on him with eyes like laser beams, trying to burn his brain right out the back of his skull.

“Are you suggesting I feed her to the wolves, Merlin?”

“I think calling them _wolves_ is a bit—”

“ _Are_ you?”

“No! No, Morgana, I just—Coffee would be nice. Before we land. That’s all.”

Morgana _hmmph_ ed, distinctly unimpressed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

When she was gone, Merlin turned to Arthur. “What did she yell at _me_ for? _You’re_ the one who suggested asking the passengers!”

“You’re the one who brought up a specific one. Lancelot, was it?”

Merlin sighed. “Yes.”

“And, remind me again, Merlin, which one is the one who’s fascinated with _you_?” Arthur asked with a smirk.

“Shut up,” Merlin mumbled, flushing bright red beneath his cap.

* * *

 

Merlin narrowed his eyes at the Knights as they thanked Morgana, piled into a taxi, and headed off to their hotel to get refreshed before their concert.

“Don’t you think—?”

“Don’t. Even. Say it,” Arthur bit out.

“But—”

“Don’t. If you say it, you’ll jinx it.”

“But you don’t even know what I was going to say!”

“Of course I do. You know how I know? Because it’s _you_ , Merlin, and every time something goes right, you like to complain about it. And if it goes wrong—”

“When it goes wrong.”

“— _If_ it goes wrong,” Arthur insisted, “you like to complain even more because you were right and no one listened to you and—”

“Don’t you think that flight went a little too smoothly, Skip?” Gwen asked, appearing beside the two co-pilots.

“God _damn_ it, Guinevere,” Arthur snapped.

She looked startled and slightly hurt.

“I’m sorry. But honestly, what _is_ it with you two? We managed to take off, fly, and land in one piece. _And_ on time. Am I the only who thinks that’s good enough?”

“Now if we can do it again in reverse we’ll be absolutely golden,” Morgana added with a smile as she joined them.

“You _say_ you haven’t bugged my mobile, but I’m not inclined to believe you,” Arthur told her.

“Believe it, dear brother. You’re not that interesting.”

* * *

 

As if the universe had been waiting for their conversation, everything began to go wrong almost immediately.

Arthur blamed Gwen.

“You just _had_ to say something.”

“Arthur, stop being childish,” Morgana reprimanded.

“I told you so,” Merlin said.

Morgana turned her reproving glare on him instead.

“Actually no, this time you didn’t say anything, so you don’t get to smugly whine about this.”

“But I was going to! Only you didn’t let me because you thought I would ‘jinx’ it!”

Morgana snorted. “Really? ‘Jinx’ it? How old _are_ you, Arthur?”

“I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for them to be late,” Gwen said, biting her nails. “Like maybe they got mobbed by fans or got asked to talk to a record label or something.”

Morgana and Arthur stared at her.

“Maybe Gwen’s right,” Merlin began, although his tone betrayed his doubt. “‘No news is good news,’ after all.”

“Except when you’re running a business that depends on punctuality. I’ll give Leon a call and see what’s going on,” Morgana said.

“ _Leon_? On a first name basis now, are we?” Arthur asked with a smirk.

Morgana made a rude gesture as she walked away to make the phone call in private.

They watched Morgana in silence for a moment before Gwen piped up, “What do we do now, Arthur?”

“Why are you asking _him_?” Merlin demanded in a tone that suggested she’d just said she was planning on sticking a knife in his back and then laughing as he bled out on the airport floor.

“Well…because he’s Arthur,” she said as if that explained everything

“Yes, but _I’m_ the captain.”

“Of course, Skip, but Arthur’s the ideas guy. Everyone knows that.”

Arthur’s expression was the definition of smug.

Merlin looked betrayed.

* * *

 

A few minutes later, Morgana returned, clearly displeased and more than a little stressed.

“Leon’s not answering his mobile.”

“Smart man,” Arthur muttered.

“Sorry, what was that? ‘Morgana, please donate my next paycheck to a charity of your choice’? Why of _course_ , Arthur, you know how much I love to make you happy.”

Arthur pursed his lips, looking like he’d just swallowed a lemon. Gwen giggled behind her hand.

“Did you try anyone else?” Merlin asked.

Morgana sniffed. “No.”

“Why do you have Leon’s number and not anyone else’s?”

“Because he’s the one who made the reservations,” she said in an unnecessarily defensive tone.

Merlin held his hands up in surrender. “It was just a question.”

They shuffled awkwardly before Gwen finally asked, “So now what?”

“Now we find out what’s happened to our knights errant.”

“I guess leaving them here isn’t an option?” Arthur asked.

“Arthur!” Merlin and Gwen shouted in unison, scandalized.

“As wonderful a suggestion as that would be, I’m afraid we can’t—they’ve only paid for half the trip, the other half to be paid when they returned quote ‘safely and soundly, without any mishaps whatsoever’ to Fitton.”

Merlin frowned. “That’s odd. It’s almost like they _expected_ to be…what is this? Kidnapped? Adult-napped?”

“Knight-napped?” suggested Gwen.

“Shut up and let me think,” demanded Arthur.

Gwen shrugged and went to go find something to eat.

“Merlin, why don’t you join her?” Morgana suggested. “Make sure she doesn’t get lost or tempted into strangers’ vans with fluffy objects or candy or what-have-you.”

“She’s an _adult_ , Morgana.”

She gave him a look.

He sighed. “I’ll go.”

When Merlin was gone, Morgana glanced back at Arthur and gnawed her lip. “Arthur, you don’t think…?” She gave her brother a significant look, letting him fill in the blank.

“I’m trying not to, but it certainly looks that way, doesn’t it? And it’s not like we’re enough in the black that we can really afford to fly an empty plane back to Fitton.”

“Do you think we should—?”

“Give it some time. I don’t want to call him unless we have to.”

“I’ll start looking for hotels then, shall I?”

* * *

 

Merlin dumped his suitcase on the bed and then flopped down alongside it. “So we’re on an impromptu vacation until we hear from Leon?”

“Something like that,” Arthur replied in a distracted tone. He stood in the doorway, looking out their tiny, filthy window at the parking lot below.

“Too bad I didn’t bring my swimsuit,” Merlin muttered. “We could’ve gone to the beach after all.”

Arthur didn’t respond.

“Arthur? Is something the matter?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“It’s…Schrödinger’s issue, I suppose, Merlin. I said don’t worry about it.”

“That means there is one, doesn’t it? If there wasn’t one, you’d say so.”

Arthur didn’t say anything.

“Tell me. I want to help. I care. About Morgana and the company and Gwen. And you.”

Arthur scrubbed a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “I know you do, Merlin.”

There was an awkward silence before Merlin gathered the courage to ask, “Does this, by any chance, have something to do with your fa—?”

Arthur stomped out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Merlin sighed.

* * *

 

“The biggest, most disgustingly alcoholic drink you can legally sell me,” Morgana ordered the bartender as she slid into the seat next beside Arthur. “If it can’t double as a disinfectant, I don’t want it.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The bartender turned away and began to prepare her drink.

“You’re handling this well,” Arthur told her dryly.

“I’m sorry, Arthur, but unless you have the _Your Father Sabotaged Just Your Company: Here’s What to Do Next_ handbook-slash-toolkit and are holding out on me, shut up and help me come up with a solution.”

“Would this trip really break us?”

Morgana smiled ruefully as she accepted a large brandy snifter from the bartender. “More than you know.” She knocked it back, wiped her mouth with a napkin, and waved at the bartender. “Another, if you don’t mind.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You’re absolutely right. In the future, I’ll interview all passengers and ask them if they’re likely to jump ship halfway through their itinerary.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

The aura of confidence and competence Morgana had been projecting disappeared and she deflated beside him like a punctured balloon, her face aging ten years in the space of a millisecond. “I know.” She nodded as she accepted the second brandy snifter and took a slow sip from it. “And I didn’t say anything because…because I’m vain as hell. This is all I have.”

“You have me,” he reminded her. “And Merlin and Gwen.”

She smiled, an uncharacteristic fondness lighting her up from the inside. “I know.”

He squeezed her hand quickly. “We’ll find a way to fix this. I’m not saying MJN will last forever, but this trip won’t be the one to break us. I swear it.”

She kissed him on the cheek. “Sometimes I’m almost glad you’re my brother. Almost.”

* * *

 

When Arthur went downstairs for breakfast the next morning, he was only slightly surprised to see Gwen looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as usual. He was, however, significantly more surprised to see Merlin and Morgana almost matching her in enthusiasm.

“I would ask if someone died, but Gwen wouldn’t be smiling if that were the case.”

“Are you saying _I_ would be smiling if someone died?” Merlin demanded.

“Depends on who it was.”

Morgana rolled her eyes at him over her coffee. “Pleasant as always, aren’t we.”

“I do try my best to ‘bring the party,’ as it were.”

“Can I tell him, Morgana?” Gwen asked eagerly.

“Tell me what?”

“Guess who I got a call from this morning?” Morgana asked.

“The boys in blue,” Arthur said, suffusing the words with as much sarcasm as his caffeine-less body could muster.

“Correct!” Gwen and Morgana crowed simultaneously.

Arthur snorted but when Morgana didn’t break down and tell him the identity of the actual caller, he did a double-take. “Wait, what?”

“It seems our errant knights had too much fun carousing last night and were unable to contact us.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What’s the catch?”

Gwen bit her lip and looked at Morgana, who answered calmly, “We are one short.”

“Sorry?”

“We are one short of the full complement.”

“One of them is _missing_?”

“Yes, Arthur, Jesus Christ, keep up. The train is leaving the station with or without you.”

“Or the plane, in this case,” Gwen said.

“You’ll have to forgive me for having a difficult time understanding that one of our clients is _missing in a foreign country_ , especially considering you don’t seem to be displaying the amount of concern such a situation would usually necessitate.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow at him.

“Shut up, Merlin.”

“Just making sure you weren’t choking on a dictionary over there.”

“Or maybe a thesaurus,” Gwen mused. Merlin nodded in agreement.

“My admirable sangfroid comes from the fact that we have now found the man who is signing the checks for our little venture and thus that slight…wrinkle I mentioned to you previously, in confidence, has now been ironed out.”

“Is this a vocabulary competition?” Merlin asked.

“It certainly seems like one,” Gwen said.

“So if Leon’s not missing, then who is?” Arthur asked.

“Gwaine.”

Arthur snorted. “He’ll be easy enough to find. Just stick Merlin on the side of the road and Gwaine will come sniffing around in five seconds flat.”

Merlin made an affronted choking noise while Morgana and Gwen laughed.

* * *

 

It turned out that Gwaine, in fact, was not that easy to find.

“Where did you last see him?” Merlin asked the other knights.

Percy scratched the side of his head with one massive hand. “Can’t really remember,” he said sheepishly.

“What do you mean you _can’t remember_?” Morgana demanded.

“Quite a party last night,” Leon added, looking equally sheepish.

“Can’t you call him or something?” Gwen asked.

Percy shrugged. “Don’t have phones.”

“Those worldwide coverage plans are expensive,” Lance added.

“It’s why we didn’t call last night.” Leon at least had the grace to look apologetic.

The crew of MJN Air looked like they were in various states of disbelief and frustration.

“So let me get this straight,” Arthur said in a chillingly calm voice. “You all got roaring drunk and when you woke up this morning you were in prison and Gwaine was gone?”

“Sounds about right,” Leon told him.

“You’re a _barbershop quartet_ ,” Arthur reminded them sharply. He looked absolutely murderous and more than a little hysterical, which was turning out to be a rather terrifying combination. “How the _hell_ does that even _happen_?”

The knights winced at his loud, shrill tone.

“Could you maybe tone it down a bit there, mate?” Percy asked. “Massive hangover.”

* * *

 

After paying bail (which Morgana sweetly reminded Leon was not a service MJN Air generally provided and would come with an extra service charge on top of the reimbursement) and buying the knights some aspirin and water (which was also not a service MJN Air generally provided and would be subject to a service charge), they settled down to plan out their search for Gwaine.

“Is it possible he might be at a police station somewhere else?” Merlin asked.

“Maybe,” Leon said.

“‘Maybe,’” Arthur repeated in a flat voice.

“He kind of went missing after two.”

“So you remember everything up until about two in the morning?” Morgana asked.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Yes,” Lance cut in. “I remember seeing the clock and thinking it was getting kind of late.”

“Well, at least _one_ of you is responsible,” Arthur said.

“Arthur, either play detective with us, shut up, or go sit in the corner so you can scowl without interrupting anything important,” Gwen said.

Morgana beamed at her approvingly. Arthur shut his mouth and let the others get on with their detective-ing.

* * *

 

After some extensive questioning, they managed to compile a list of all the places the knights might’ve gone the night before.

“You went to a gay club,” Arthur said flatly.

“It was quite a night,” Leon said.

“We didn’t really know it was a gay club until we went inside though,” Lance said.

“The rainbow flag on the roof didn’t give it away?” Morgana asked.

“You know, I did wonder about that,” Percy said thoughtfully, tapping a finger against his chin.

Merlin’s eyes roved down the list over Arthur’s shoulder and he frowned. “How many places did you end up _going_?”

Percy shrugged. “We just kind of strolled along and stopped in anywhere it looked like people were having a good time.”

“It’s a wonder none of you ended up with alcohol poisoning,” Morgana said. She sounded impressed.

“Well, we did do a lot of walking,” Lance said.

“Yeah we went up and down Ocean, Collins, and Washington at least twice,” Leon added.

“I see,” Arthur said. “Alright, well, I guess we should split up. Merlin, you’re with me. Morgana and Gwen, you two go together and…” He trailed off, narrowing his eyes at the three knights. “We’re not going to lose anyone else if the three of you go off on your own, will we?”

“No.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Scout’s honor.”

Arthur snorted, clearly not convinced.

* * *

 

They agreed to regroup for a late lunch and a new game plan at 4:30 at a tiny, unsuspecting Latin-American restaurant on Washington Avenue.

Merlin and Arthur arrived first, then the three knights. Arthur kept glancing expectantly towards the door, but there was no sign of Morgana and Gwen.

“Why don’t we go ahead and get something to eat? They’re probably on their way,” Merlin suggested, pushing a menu into Arthur’s lap. He opened it, stared at the rows and rows of unfamiliar menu items, and shut it again.

“Not hungry.”

At 4:45, Arthur began to get antsy.

“Don’t you think we should’ve heard from them by now?” Arthur asked.

Merlin eyed the ceviche on the table uncertainly and shrugged. “They’re barely even late. Give them a little more time.”

Arthur glanced at his watch again.

At 5:00, he had had enough.

“This isn’t like them at all and you know it,” he hissed into Merlin’s ear as the waitress brought around entrees.

“Who had the lomo saltado?”

“That was me,” Lance said with a smile and pointed at the empty table space in front of him.

“I know,” Merlin whispered. “Did you check your mobile? Maybe she called you.”

“And the carne asada?”

“Right here,” Leon said.

Arthur dug his mobile out of his pocket. “Nothing.”

“And you must be cau cau de mondongo,” the waitress said, placing the last plate in front of Percy.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Have you tried texting her?” Merlin whispered, waving the waitress away when she asked if he wanted anything to eat. “No, thank you, I’m fine.”

“Alright then, enjoy your meal, boys.”

“Of course I’ve tried, Merlin, what do you take me for?” Arthur snapped.

“Is everything all right?” Lance asked.

“Peachy,” Arthur replied with a tight smile. “Only we’re now down another two people out of our merry party, as you may have noticed.”

Lance swallowed a mouthful of beef and looked around the restaurant. “You haven’t heard from Gwen?” he asked.

“Or Morgana?” Leon added.

Merlin and Arthur exchanged a look. “No,” Merlin said. “Maybe we should go look for them,” he whispered to Arthur.

“And leave these three by themselves?”

“I don’t see any other options. Do you?”

“No, I guess not. But leave your phone with them in case something happens.”

Merlin grinned. “What happened to not jinxing anything?”

Arthur sniffed. “I’m not jinxing anything. I’m simply being prepared.” To the knights he said, “Merlin and I are going to go look for Morgana and Gwen. We’re going to leave Merlin’s phone with you so that when we find them, you can come meet up with us. In case of an emergency, call my phone.”

“It’s listed under ‘Prat.’”

Arthur shot Merlin a look.

“What?” he asked innocently. “Oh, and the code to unlock it is 0504.”

Leon nodded as he pocketed the phone. “0504,” he repeated. “Should be easy enough to remember.”

“Is that your birthday?” Lance asked politely.

“Um, no.”

“Well, we’re going to head out. Let us know if anything changes,” Arthur said quickly. He dragged Merlin out of the restaurant and onto the street.

“Why is my birthday your phone password?” he asked as they walked along Washington Avenue.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Merlin was looking resolutely at the road. “So, where to first?”

* * *

 

They eventually stumbled upon Morgana, Gwen, and Gwaine in a falafel place on the corner of 6th street and Collins.

It was actually quite by accident: Merlin had been grumbling that he was hungry, filled with regret at not ordering anything at the restaurant, not to mention his feet felt like they were going to fall off, Arthur was trying to kill him, he was going to die if he walked one more step. Finally Arthur snapped and demanded, “If I buy you food, will you shut up?”

“Yes.”

“I swear, Merlin, sometimes you’re just like a child.”

“Someone has to make up for how boring you are and right now the job falls to me. Oh, look, there’s a falafel place. I’ve always wanted to try a falafel.”

They opened the door and stared at the group seated near in front of a wall of mirrors, chatting animatedly and clearly not worried that they had been thought to be missing for at least an hour.

“Morgana,” Arthur greeted frostily. “Gwen. Gwaine.”

“Hello, Arthur. Merlin.” Morgana nodded at both of them, clearly unimpressed by Arthur’s attempts to cow her.

“I see you’re enjoying dinner.”

“Yes.”

“Are you injured, Morgana?” Arthur asked, concerned.

“What?” She looked thrown by the question.

“Did you fall? Hurt your head?”

“No…”

“Oh, I was just wondering since I _clearly_ remember saying we were going to meet at 4:30 in some Peruvian restaurant—”

“I think it was called Chalan,” Merlin supplied helpfully.

“—and yet neither you nor Gwen showed up or contacted me to—”

“I lost my phone,” Gwen said, embarrassed.

 _“Again?”_ Merlin asked in a fondly exasperated tone of voice.

“Sorry, Skip. I just can’t seem to hold onto them.”

“At least it wasn’t a smart phone this time,” Morgana said.

“No, I’ve learned my lesson,” Gwen agreed. “Memorize everyone’s numbers and don’t bother shelling out for anything that has a touch screen.”

“What’s your excuse?” Arthur growled at Morgana.

She shrugged, on more even footing now that Arthur was angry with her rather than overly polite. “My phone died,” she said.

“Your phone died,” Arthur repeated.

She nodded. “Yes, I already said that, try to keep up. Anyway, I was trying to find a good place to eat nearby and my battery gave up on me.”

“You couldn’t be arsed to meet up with us?”

“I don’t like Peruvian food.”

“Of course not.”

“Well, we’re glad we found you,” Merlin said. “And that you found Gwaine.”

Gwaine winked at Merlin. “Miss me?”

“Terribly,” Arthur drawled. “Now pack it up, it’s time to go.”

Morgana looked behind him. “Where are the others?”

Arthur sighed. “ _They_ , unlike _some people_ I could name, know how to stick to a plan. They’re waiting for us at Chalan.”

Morgana glanced up at the wall clock. “Maybe they _were_ waiting for you. It’s almost seven, Arthur. They’re probably long gone by now.”

“Give them a call,” Merlin urged. “See where they are.”

“Fine.” Arthur stepped outside, already dialing the number for Merlin’s phone.

“Does he know about your passcode?” Gwen stage-whispered.

Merlin nodded. “Couldn’t really see a way around it.”

Morgana patted him on the shoulder in what was probably meant to be a consoling manner, but made Merlin feel like he was receiving an aborted version of the Heimlich maneuver.

* * *

 

Of course, it would be too much to expect everything to get back on track right away.

Instead, Arthur’s phone got run over by a lorry.

“I think he’s taking it rather well,” Morgana said dryly.

“Do you?” Gwen asked. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks more like he’s in shock.”

Arthur stared at the shattered remains of his phone lying on the pavement before he turned around and marched right into the doors of a still-sleeping night club with a pretentious looking “M” emblazoned on the side.

Morgana sighed.

“Should we—?” Merlin began.

“We’d better. I don’t want him making someone cry again.”

“‘Again’?” Gwaine asked, looking somewhere between alarmed and amused. Merlin wondered if it was possible for Gwaine to _not_ look amused. He had a feeling the answer was no.

“Long story,” Gwen said, following Morgana who stalked determinedly into the bar.

Merlin tried to bring up the rear, but the bouncer stopped him and Gwaine at the door and gave Merlin the most condescending once-over he could ever remember receiving.

“We’re not open yet,” he said, voice deep and intimidating.

Merlin frowned at him. “Three of my friends just walked in here.”

“We’re not open yet,” the bouncer repeated.

“But did you see them? One was a man, about my height, blond, and then there were two women, one with straight black hair and one with really curly brown hair.”

“We’re not open yet.”

Gwaine cut in with an exasperated “Are you capable of saying _anything_ else?”

The bouncer seemed to mull that over and then responded with a very firm “Out.” He helpfully pointed in the direction of the door with one massive fist that looked to be about the same width as Merlin’s torso.

“Listen, if I could just—”

 _“Now.”_ The bouncer cracked his knuckles in what was obviously an intimidation tactic. Merlin was ashamed to say it worked extremely well.

“Yes, yes, going, we’re going. Have a good night, bye now.”

He and Gwaine filed back out onto the street and plopped down onto the curb outside the club in the hopes that Arthur, Gwen, and Morgana would come back out shortly.

“Does this happen to you often?” Gwaine asked cheerfully.

“Yes. But not usually all at once like this.”

“At least it’s not boring.”

Merlin considered that for a moment. Usually he was stuck sitting around in the hotel of whatever city they were in, too poor to afford sightseeing or unable to convince anyone to come with him. “True,” he replied.

“And I’ve got you alone at last.” Gwaine nudged him in the shoulder with a bright grin and Merlin felt himself get very warm in a way that had nothing to do with the weather.

Behind them, there was the sound of the door slamming open and Arthur shouting, “—left him alone? On a trip like this one? God, for all we know he could be—” He stopped abruptly at the sight of Gwaine and Merlin sitting on the sidewalk, Merlin waving at him cheerfully.

“So you haven’t been kidnapped or arrested or what have you. That’s something.”

“They wouldn’t let us in,” Merlin explained as he stood up and brushed off his backside.

“You should be used to it by now,” Arthur snapped. Morgana and Gwen responded to this comment with glares of varying intensity and effectiveness while Merlin settled with a kicked puppy look.

“We found out where they are,” Morgana said in her soothing I-am-in-charge-and-everything-is-fine voice. “Hopefully we can get this expedition back on track.”

“Wouldn’t that be a miracle,” Arthur muttered darkly.

Morgana gave him another pointed look and walked quickly up the street, dragging Gwaine and Gwen along with her as she chatted very loudly about nothing.

Merlin fell into step beside Arthur as they walked in awkward silence.

“I—I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“That was…rude.”

“Yes.”

“I believe at this point the appropriate response is ‘I forgive you.’”

“But I don’t yet.”

“…Oh.”

They turned the corner of the next street.

“Now I do,” Merlin said as they walked past a gelato shop.

“You’re such a child,” Arthur said, rolling his eyes, but his steps were lighter, his heart buoyed by relief as they followed Morgana back to the hotel where the rest of the Knights were supposedly waiting.

* * *

 

They somehow managed to make it the rest of their stay in Miami and back to Fitton airfield without any other mishaps (“I think we’ve had enough mishaps for three trips at least,” Merlin said as they did the pre-flight checks. “Why do you always _jinx_ it?” Arthur demanded). As the Knights departed the plane, they each said goodbye, gave their thanks, and bashfully apologized for causing so much trouble.

“We’ll be sure to use you again,” Leon promised.

“Please do,” Morgana said with her sharp smile that meant trouble, although of the good kind or the bad kind was hard to say.

“Please don’t,” Arthur said under his breath. Merlin was inclined to agree.

“You have a lovely…uh, plane,” Lance said awkwardly, speaking at some intermediate point between Gwen’s feet, the ground, and the plane behind in the distance.

“We’ll be sure to tell GERTI you think so,” Gwen said with a smile.

“Thanks for the adventure,” Percy said with a handshake that made Merlin feel like his hand was being stuck in a vise while someone attempted to dislocate his shoulder.

“Thanks… _Captain_.” Gwaine punctuated his parting remark by licking his lips and winking in a licentious manner, causing Merlin to heat up rather quickly under his captain’s hat.

“Dear brother?” Morgana asked Arthur with a wicked smile.

“Yes, dear sister?” he answered, his smile equally wicked.

“What color, exactly, would you call our fearless captain’s face?”

“Hmmm… I’d _like_ to say red, but, well, mere red can only _aspire_ to be that vivid.”

“I quite agree. Gwen?”

She studied Merlin with a critical eye, lifting up his cap and ruffling his hair for good measure. When he didn’t react, she said, “Scarlet? Yes, I think scarlet describes it quite nicely.”

As Merlin remained frozen and unresponsive to their teasing, Morgana decided to pull out her cell phone and take a picture to preserve the moment for posterity.

“I think this will make a nice addition to the company website,” she said cheerfully.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: I was originally going to call this “Zurich” and then I found out  
> a. Zurich is only 40 minutes from England by plane  
> b. There is actually (when I started writing this it was "going to be" but now I think it exists) a Cabin Pressure episode called “Zurich”  
> so I arbitrarily decided to change it to Miami.
> 
> All of the locations mentioned are real places that exist on Miami Beach (the club Arthur barges into is called Mansion). Everything's a lot more spread out than I make it seem (I don't think it could be conceivably walked), but that's why it's fiction (among other reasons).


End file.
